


the you that ends with me

by aestheticisms (R_Vienna)



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Chessshipping Day 2013, Crossover, Crossover: Fire Emblem, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Vienna/pseuds/aestheticisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fire Emblem: Awakening/Pokemon BW+BW2</p>
<p>A lord and a tactician bring a kingdom to its knees. --HilbertHilda, and their band of Seekers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the you that ends with me

“Black, we gotta do something! We can’t just leave some poor innocent soul lying in a field!” 

“Nate, don’t be ridiculous. We also can’t pick up just any person—we are not a charity!”

“Cheren, you’re so pessimistic!”

“Shh, I think she’s waking up!”

The girl lying in the grass and flowers slowly opened her eyes, bright blue orbs flickered to life. She rubbed her face and shielded the sun, getting a better look at her appraisers. They were a motly crew, a total of four, all circled around her, bickering and squabbling amongst themselves--until the youngest of the bunch, a boy, noticed she moved. 

“Wow, hi there!” The dark haired boy grinned, he was all limbs and smiles, much to the annoyance of the bespectacled black-haired male behind him. The blonde next to the scowling man gave her a sunny smile, and a wave. The fourth member, the third man dressed in a beautiful dark blue tunic, black breeches, knee high armored boots, and an elegant cape threatening to fly off of his shoulders, his gaze flickered from apprehension to something else: humor. 

“You know, there are better places for a nap.”

The girl locked eyes with him. His smile was warm, heart wrenchingly beautiful—she felt her face flush as he offered his callused left hand. She took it, accepted it with her gloved right, and he pulled her up to her feet. They were inches apart, the motion so fluid and familiar she forgot how to breathe for a second—and, like lightning, it was gone.

“Thank you, Hilbert.” She thanked him earnestly, much to his surprise. (And hers.)

“No one calls me that outside of the court!” He said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand, the other still holding her hand. His short-haired, blonde companion made a small noise, and the male gave her a questioning look, to which she replied with a pointing finger to his hand. Hilbert jumped a bit, and quickly let go of the brunette's hand, following through with an apology. 

The bespectacled knight choked.

“Your name, miss, and your business with the halidom?”

She thought about it for a minute, and then clutched her head, telltale signs of a headache surfacing.

“I’m, I’m sorry—but I don’t remember.”

“Likely story. She remembers your highness’s name, but not her own!”

“Peace, Cheren. She’s probably had a nasty fall of some sorts, look at the state we found her. I’m sure she’ll come to soon.” Hilbert quirked a brow at the male, who huffed and crossed his arms over his armor-plated chest.

“Just a clever actress. Incredible.”

The blonde girl jabbed his face, and glowered. “Cheren, that’s being awfully rude, and you know it!”

“I’m protecting us, Bianca!”

“Nate? Your thoughts?”

Nate, the first boy, shrugged. “I think she looks fine. Cheren needs to stop acting like he’s got a stick up his—”

Hilbert cleared his throat and the party went silent. Bianca shifted in her armor, and pulled down her orange mini-dress, uniform of the pegasus knights. Nate juggled his staff from hand to hand, looking nervous and excited in his war monk garb, looking small underneath the foreboding chest piece and gauntlets. Cheren let out another sigh, and pressed a hand against his face, before turning towards his horse and mounting, hooking an armor plated leg over his saddle. He straightened himself up, and did his best not to glower.

Hilbert already has his mind made up, anyway. There was no point. 

“All right, we’ll take her to Castelia and see where it goes from there. Any objections?”

The girl shook her head, and brushed off her hooded cloak, an intricate affair with six eyes embroidered in gold thread on purple sateen. She pulled her hood over her head, and smiled slightly. “None, er, your highness.”

The prince laughed.

“Just Black is fine, don’t worry about it—er, what shall we refer to you, considering your lack of a name?”

Nate bounced up from his reverie and grinned. “How about White? She’s the opposite of you, Black, ahaha. I mean, she’s cool for starters, and all…”

Hilbert shot him a glare and the girl shrugged.

“That works.”

A battle later, and a village saved, she remembered her name.

_Hilda_ , battle maiden.

* * *

“Won’t you wake up? Please,  _please, wake up._ ”

Bianca reached a hand towards the trembling girl, before Cheren shook his head and took the blonde’s shoulder, stopping her from advancing. Big, fat tears welled up in her green eyes, she shuddered and turned around, throwing her arms over the dark knight’s shoulders. Her wails shook her entire body, the heavy armor requisite for a pegasus knight trembled like a leaf under the weight of her despair.

“ _Wake up,_ Black! Wake up, wake up,” her pleas grew weaker with every syllable that escaped from her bruised lips. Their master tactician’s beautiful cloak was torn into shreds, the coattails littered the ground she kneeled on, her sleeves were ripped off, showing only blackened arms and glowing hands. The space around her crackled with electricity—“I’m, I’m so  _sorry.”_

The girl doubled over, fell to her knees, and screamed into the unresponsive prince’s chest.

* * *

“Are you okay?”

Hilda shot forward, hands clutching flannel sheets, breathing heavily as beads of cold sweat rolled down her neck. Her chestnut curls stuck to her face, and fell down her back in ugly knots. Nate tilted his head to the side, unruly black-brown hair tamed only by a unique curio: a bonnet made of buttons and white leather, tufts of brown hair stuck out of gaps in between the red discs. He pressed a hand against her clammy skin, and let out a gasp.

“Good gods, forget that question, you’re burning up! Let me get a healer—wait.  _I am_  a healer. Shit, stay put Hilda, let me get Black and the rest of the crew okay—“

A single pained look was all it took for Nate to sprint out of the room. The girl groaned and fell back in her cot, her back hitting swanna-down pillows and stuffed trinkets. She wrapped herself in blankets and curled up into a tiny little ball, arms over knees.

She was having nightmares again. That wasn’t good. It’s been a while since their last midnight showing. She bit on her lower lip, and shivered. Maybe she was overworking herself, Cheren was always at her heels, nipping and nagging like an irritated lillipup, telling her to go to bed at some hour that wasn’t the crack of dawn, to make sure to regularly take her vitamins, to stop hiding injuries— _just because you were a longass coat does not mean I can’t smell the blood, gods be damned!_ —maybe this was just karma’s way of getting back at her for ignoring her comrade’s advice.

Hilda let out another loud, and drawn out sigh.

Apparently, Nate had alerted half of the caravan. She could hear the stampede, and voices and footsteps getting louder with every single second that ticked by.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know, man, she looked really bad!”

“Call me  _man_  again, Nate, and I’ll cut your tongue off.”

“Rosa…”

“Sorry, Hugh. Forgot, he’s your boy and all.”

“ _ROSA_!!”

“WHERE IS SHE?”

Ah, there he was. The prince of the halidom. Hilda lowered the blankets just enough for her eyes to see the entrance of her tent, flap ajar, with a parade waiting for their brown haired leader to bound through, arms raised and ready to slice the throat of the brigand that infected his master tactician, right hand woman, keeper of his heart, with the common cold.

The three squabbling teens immediately fell silent, and Nate quietly pointed towards the farther end of her sleeping quarters. Hilbert ran past them and immediately fell to the girl’s side, hand caressing her cheek, eyes brimming with sentimentality that made Hilda’s insides churn. And without further ado, she pulled the covers over her head and mumbled something about how she wasn’t dying, and to ignore what ever Nate told him.

Hilbert slumped back, and sat down on the dirt floor. Bianca scurried in with a stool, and placed it next to the prince, before walking back, taking her place next to Cheren and the rest of the seekers. Rosa flipped one of her light brown pigtails back, and placed a fingerless glove clad hand on her jutted hip, eyes scanning the premises, memorizing escape routes, in case of attack. You never knew, nowadays. If word came out that Castelia’s miracle maker was out with the flu—

“Yes, Cheren, we  _know._ Thank you for your concern, but I feel like your post is somewhere out there, and not in here, making the situation out to be more dire than it is.” Hilda’s annoyed growl vibrated from under the wool blankets, and Hilbert gave his best friend an apologetic look. Cheren sniffed, and decided that the weapons tent would be much more up to his alley, anyway, and left with a scowl. Bianca looked from Hilbert and the ill girl, and then to what was once Cheren, and then back to the prince. She smiled sheepishly and stumbled after him, not before tripping and letting out a small groan of discomfort from the floor.

Hugh sighed, and ran a hand through his bushy blue hair before sheathing his swords and helping the blonde girl back to her feet. Rosa put a piece of saltwater taffy into her mouth and readjusted her knives and black scarf before skulking away, clearly annoyed by the turn of events. Nate turned to follow Hugh out, but was stopped by Hilbert’s stony glare.

“Right, right, the healing. Got you…….” the younger prince’s voice trailed off, as he grabbed his staff from the floor, why it was there no one really knew, and began reciting the beginning phrases of an spell he only knew so well.

Hilda felt the effects of Nate’s  _Mend_ spell almost immediately. Her face flushed, then cooled; the girl noticed Hilbert’s gaze flicker with something she liked to think was relief. After the glow from the spell faded, Nate wiped his brow and smiled tiredly. Despite being one of the more efficient war monks on their team, heal spells still took a lot out of him.

“Thank you, Nate.” Hilbert gave the younger boy a grin, and Nate nodded and gave his older brother a triumphant nod before disappearing into the outside encampment. Now, alone, Hilbert turned towards the girl sitting up, against her better judgement, and quirked a brow.

“You’re having nightmares again.”

She didn’t bother asking how he knew, because they were two halves of a better whole. It was a mystery why he wasn’t the first one in the room. Hilda pulled her hair up into a ponytail, grabbed a hair tie from Hilbert’s offering hand, and only sighed to indicate her response.

“Yeah, the same one.” Her fingertips drew circles on her exposed knee, still bandaged from their last bout with Kalos royalty. “The one where I kill you.” Feigned nonchalance and a tight lipped smile, something sad and tragic all the same. Hilbert scratched the back of his head with his gloved hand and let out another sigh, scooting closer to the girl, completely ignoring the stool’s existence. Their shoulders pressed against each other, and he took one of her hands in his, and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, bone white and warm, and whispered a prayer under his breath.

“You won’t let that happen. Your bonds with us, with  _me,_ are stronger than whatever blood ties you with that monster.”

Right. Thank you for the reminder, sir prince of tact.

“ _UUUUUUUGH._ Don’t remind me, Ghetsis is  _not_ my dad. Just, saying those two words within context of each other is gross, and skeevy, and I hate it.”

Hilbert let out a chuckle, nervous and terrified all at the same time, as the girl glared with her dark blue eyes. Right, right. Etiquette and tact and  _sorry, erg._

“Well, now that you’re feeling better,” Hilbert started with the intention of steering the conversation into something not so terrible. “You should get dressed, and get something to eat. We march at noon.”

Now realizing the state of her undress, Hilda let out a screech. Her cotton shirt was not at all acceptable in the presence of a man, or even worse, a love interest who just happened to be a member of the royal family and their commander in chief.

_“OOOOOOOOOUT!”_

That was enough for the prince, he laughed and dodged her flying furniture items, before ducking out of the tent at full speed.

* * *

“All right, if we stick to the plan, we should be able to arrive on Lumiose soil by tomorrow morning.” Hilda chewed on the inside of her cheek, and made a noise of discontent. Hilbert tilted his head and leaned over to get a better look at the strategist’s map, colorful and detailed, with little figurines of their army displayed on its ink stained surface.

“Is something bothering you?” Hilbert posed the obvious question, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his dark blue cape fluttering behind him. The girl pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze.

“It seems just…too easy. We haven’t had any retaliation as of yet, and we’ve gone through two major cities. I don’t like this. Rosa’s already been out, and she came back with an all clear report. The cavalier unit already went ahead, and they’ve had a relatively smooth trip.”

Hilbert put his hand on top of hers, shaking and spilling onyx tint all over her battle plans. Hilda let go of her quill and took a deep breath. Without her coat and weapon of choice—today it was a Thoron tome—Hilbert realized something.

She was human, just like them.

She pulled miraculous feat on the battlefield, but inside the caravan, hiding behind mountains of strategy texts and burning candles, she was just as vulnerable as their fellow soldiers. She was just a girl, underneath that heavy cloak.

The prince felt his heart lurch.

Hilda was mumbling something about hillside attack, or concentrated wipeout, Hilbert wasn’t sure—he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close, burrowing his face in the crook her neck.

“Hilbert, please, what if someone catches us?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He tilted his head up, and rested his chin on here shoulder, mouth close to her ear. “I love you, and that’s not going to change. I want us to get through this, together.” His voice dropped to a whisper, as a blush settled on the girl’s face. “I believe in you. Always have. In your strength, your might.

“You will lead us to victory.”

Hilda took a step back, and looked at the Prince of Castelia intently. She pressed her forehead against his, and then closed her eyes.

“I promise.”

The word was enough. They exchanged a kiss—bittersweet and melancholic. 

She tasted like ashes.

* * *

“Nate,  _goddamn_  it, watch where you’re throwing that!”

“Sorry, Hugh!”

Nate and Hugh were back to back, each boy far too preoccupied with the other’s safety to let their guards down, they hacked away at Risen and brigand alike, their movements completely in sync. Hugh would strike, a blur with a blade in each hand, and Nate would parry, defend, silver axe menacing and glinting. A myrmidon and war monk, taking names and defending the Seekers’ rearguard.

Santalune City was ablaze with flames and firefights, from the sky the pegasus knights rained destruction, dark fliers sweeping away axe-wielding fiends. Bianca lead the vanguard, with Cheren clutching her waist like a rosary, spitting out spells and hexes at every possible opportunity. The blonde girl whooped in the air, and laughed as her lance pierced past armored units and cleared the way for the fighters and heroes below. Brycen’s brass knuckles were responsible for quite the hefty body count, while Lenora and Clay picked up speed and punched out enemy cavaliers. The mounted unit rode past, Elesa leading the assault, screaming thunder spells one after the other, while Skyla, riding with the blonde-haired witch, took out enemy salamence-riders and pidgeot-mounts with her wicked bow.

Hilda and Hilbert sprinted past the war zone, weaved in and out of skirmishes. Hilda’s sword sliced enemies with a finesse that made Hilbert green with envy—his tactician, his saving grace, was a demon in battle. Her dark hair and elaborate cloak were stained with enemy blood, her face flecked with red. The brunet prince let out a war cry, and took up his blade, parrying attacks directed at his tactician,  _Amanita_  destroying anything and everything in sight. Their combined strength broke past the armed wall that separated them from Lumiose’s royal pair.

They stood, short of breath and coughing, before a boy and a girl. The girl’s smile was cold, light hair braided into a long pleat, and a sword in her gloved hands. The boy’s dark hair was jaw-length, his eyes menacing, and a thick, heavy tome made residence under his arm.

“A declaration of war from the supposedly peaceful halidom! _Hilarious!_ ” She giggled, raising her sword, an intricate affair with sharp edges and hollow geometric designs within the inside of the blade. The hilt was red, carmine and crimson, and Hilbert wasn’t sure if it was that color originally, or if it was stained by life. A queen in wicked armor, weilding the just as dangerous blade of legend: _Oblivion Wing_. 

“Well, you know what happens to the ruffian sort, darling.” He chuckled, already flipping through pages of his well read and worn  _Geomancy_  text. His sorcerer’s clothes clung to him, like black magic and spirit dust, the opaque black fabric stretched and moved with every twitch of his muscles. “They get  _buuuuurned_!”

The lord and the tactician raised their weapons.

“We have no quarrel with Kalos, but with the man you are hiding. Give us Ghetsis and we leave your country in peace. Serena, Calem, you understand this to be wrong. Our kingdoms were always of peaceful relations.”

Negotiations were never Hilbert’s strongest suit. Half of the city was up in flames, and the reparations would pull Unova into a debt so incredible, it would take more than three fourths of the royal treasury to even begin to cover it.

“No can do! He’s got something on us, too.” Serena sighed.

“It’s a real shame. He has our entire court locked down tight! Hostages!” Calem cried.

“Then, we’ll fight.” Hilbert exhaled sharply, worn out and tired.

“Sorry. Really.” Hilda inhaled slowly, methodical and plotting.

Their blades clashed.

* * *

Ghetsis’s maniacal laughter reverberated in the enormous castle throne room, as his son laid sprawled out on the floor, heaving, clutching the hilt of a broken sword. Hilda ran towards him, cradling the green-haired male in her arms, screaming obscenities at her father.

“You almost killed him!”

“That was the point?” The older sorcerer chuckled, waving a hand in the air. “I have no need for a useless vessel.” His words were venom, each syllable a shot directed at the broken boy.

Bianca screamed from the other side of the manor, a forcefield now dividing the Seekers into two main groups. The us, the them. Hilda, Hilbert, now separated from their comrades, were alone. The tactician gently laid her brother on the ground, before rising up and running towards the red eyed man, sword in hand. Hilbert grabbed her forearm, and pulled her back—pointing out the events on the other side of the looking glass.

Cheren rallied the troops, and led a fierce fight against Ghetsis’s army, his glasses broken and hanging from one side of his head. The glass pressed against his skin, left red lines and the tome wielder growled in frustration before casting away the red frames.

“ _For our prince!_ WE WILL FIGHT!” The usually stoic black-haired male was screaming at the top of his lungs, as Hilbert’s army proceeded forward, chanting their leader’s name.

Ghetsis let out a disgruntled noise, before turning to the two remaining officers.

“Let them play heroes, they’ll die just as well!”

“I-I won’t let you!”

The combatants turned around at the sound of the new voice, a weak and frail shout.

“ _What?”_

N stood, shaking and trembling, half-used tome and half-sword in hand. His gray gaze was lit with a conviction and determination that Hilbert swore he only saw once—and that was in Hilda on the day of their first battle three years ago.

Now, the green-haired male had that same fire burning within the confines of his soul. His tattered cloak, a replica of the one his sister wore, flapped behind him, menacingly, royally--the fell prince come to reap. 

“You heard me—I won’t let you hurt them.” He raised his tome, the front emblazoned with a word Hilda only knew too well.

_Thoron_.

“Checkmate.”

The spell hit his father point blank.

Ghetsis fell back so, so gracefully, back arching as he collided with the ivory and ebony tiled floors of his castle. His stringy green hair fanned out and pooled around his bleeding head, the extravagent sorcerer’s cloak tattered and tarnished.

Hilbert turned towards Hilda and pulled her into her arms, kissing her face, her neck, her lips, and the girl laughed and cried, and then:

_"I WONT LET YOU."_

Hilda shoved Hilbert out of the way, felt time slow to a sluggish pace, felt every single syllable crash within the confines of her skull, saw the way her love’s gaze widened to the size of twin moons, felt the way her heart jumped out of her chest when he screamed her name. 

_Kyurem’s Truth_ saw all.

The world burned, then froze. A blank slate. 

(She couldn’t do anything stop herself from picking up the Thoron spell book.) (She couldn’t do anything to warn the beautiful boy in front of her, telling her it was okay, and that they were getting out alive.) 

The world came rushing back, she could see a kaleidoscope of reds and blues and greens and browns and then, the colors focused in on one thing, and one thing only. 

Her blackened hand, crackling with electricity, and the staggering prince in front of her.

“It’s not your fault.”

Her stupid, selfless, staggering prince.

She could hear Nate’s screams echo in the conundrum.

Ghetsis’s cackles followed soon after, as the man reappeared in a flurry of smoke and mirrors, mocking her. Mocking her, taunting her, gloating! Shouting skyward for the ritual rite, Kyurem already awake and ready to fulfill its role as harbinger of death and destruction to all of the kingdom.

Hilda lowered her head, as Ghetsis sneered, ready to strike--

A sword pierced the man’s hand, and with it, crushed the DNA splicer used to summon the dragon of old.

“ _HILBERT!”_

Cheren, in tears, ran towards their prince, and fell to his knees. The brunet laughed nervously, still shaky from his run in with Hilda’s magic, and from exhaustion.

Rosa, stoic and wicked-grinned, _assassin_ Rosa, was the next one to react.

“YOU’RE ALIVE!”

Before he could go into account of his grand scheme, Burgh cut him off, already mending wounds and healing gashes.

“There’s still the issue of the man eating dragon on top of the castle.”

Hilda shot him a look of distaste, also unhappy she would not be able to explain their magic act. Hilbert took her hand, and they made their way to the top of the castle fortress.

* * *

“I’m sorry.”

Hilda said, tears brimming in her eyes, with a sad smile dancing on her lips. Hilbert clutched her shoulders, fingernails digging into her shoulder blades, anything to prove she was real she was alive and she was still  _here._

“But, but,  _you promised!_ You promised you would stay!”

Hilbert felt the world shake, tilt and whirl, and he wasn’t sure if that was the aftermath of Kyurem’s defeat, or the breaking of his heart.

“But I also promised to protect you.”

Hilda closed the distance between them and kissed her prince. His arms fell to his side, and then, his hands were at her waist, her brilliant violet cloak already fading away.

“——-I love you.”

She disappeared into the horizon of a new world.

* * *

Bianca ran from Seeker to Seeker, healing when needed, providing food when asked for. Her short blonde hair was plastered against her face, and her big green eyes wet with tears.

“She’ll be back, she won’t go down without a fight.” Cheren reassured her, despite the cracks in his armor and his voice.

The girl sniffled. “Hildaaaaaaaaa, come back soon! We’ll be looking for you!! Everywhere! Don’t worry, we’ll find you!”

Hugh, Nate, and Rosa were tending to each others wounds, each speechless, but wordlessly agreeing the same. Hilda would be back. They could feel it in their bones.

They just needed to keep the faith.

* * *

“Black, we gotta do something! We can’t just let some poor innocent soul lying in a field!”

“Nate, don’t be ridiculous. We also can’t pick up just any person—we are not a charity!”

“Cheren, you’re so pessimistic!”

“Shh, I think she’s waking up!”

Hilda opened her eyes, and looked up to see a pair of brown eyes staring back.

A hand, outstretched and offered. She took it.

“Welcome home.”

Hilbert’s smile confirmed everything it needed to, and said more than she could ever. Her tears streamed down her face, as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

It was over.

They had won.

 

**Author's Note:**

> written for chessshipping day 2013, i decided to go with a fe/bw crossover because 1) i've neglected pokemon for fe, and 2) i hate myself 
> 
> i really enjoyed writing this nevertheless, but i don't expect it to gain a lot of attention. this was really self indulgent, ahaha. 
> 
> thank you for reading, regardless! uwu have a great day!


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